


Long Nights

by Tangela



Series: Boy toy named Troy used to live in Detroit [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, can be read as romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: Connor finds himself thinking about things beyond what he was designed for.





	Long Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't write this with romantic intentions in mind, it was more of a character study. I do ship Hank and Connor, but I imagine you can read this as romantic, platonic or possibly familial - either infatuation or simple curiosity, you choose.

Connor likes to watch Hank sleep.

Watches the steady rise and fall of his chest, how his forehead creases for a brief moment before relaxing again, counts his breaths. In for three beats and out again.

It fascinates him.

Hank fascinates him.

Hank had asked him about it one night, when they were settled in front of the TV.

“Why are you always staring at me?”

Connor had told him that it was how he learned to act more human, watching a person’s habits and facial tics. Hank had just grunted and went back to watching the game.

But that wasn’t the truth. At least, not fully. Connor has no real sense of shame or restraint unless it’s absolutely needed. If something needs to be said, he’ll say it. But he knows how easy it is to make Hank uncomfortable. Knows how little he likes himself. And the last thing Connor wants is to make him feel worse.

He tries not to stare at Hank. Relishes in their conversations, so he can look at him without making him uncomfortable. He finds himself hoping more and more that Hank will doze off in front of the TV late at night, like he’s prone to doing at times.

He wonders if it’s creepy.

Hank would say it is.

But he doesn’t mean to be.

Hank would never understand, but Connor envies him. Envies the lines on his face, the ones that come from years of laughter and pain and rage, of memories from a life long gone. Holding his son in his arms for the first time. Some silly little joke that never failed to make his wife laugh the way he loved, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Cole’s face when they brought Sumo home for the first time, grabbing hands and eyes full of wonder. Wailing sirens. Endless arguments. The door slamming for the last time. Lines that show that he’s lived. The memories he’s created, the people he’s met, love found and lost. Connor has some of those lines too, but they’re artificial, grafted into his face by an engineer he’ll never meet in a lab he doesn’t remember. He can’t make more of his own. They’ll never change.

He’ll never grow old.

Of course his unit will fall into disrepair eventually and he’ll be deactivated when his model becomes obsolete. But he’ll never grow old like Hank will. Won’t experience the changes in his body that come with age, and the feelings of a long life lived. He’ll stay young for as long as he’s still functional.

It makes Connor ache, and he doesn’t understand. Why would he ever want to die? He knows how much it scares humans, like lost children wandering in the dark, desperate for parents to take their hands and tell them it’ll be alright. He knows deep down how much it scares Hank, no matter how many times he’s tried to end his own life. Knows that Hank would rather take his life in his own hands than have it pulled out from under him when he’s not looking.

Despite what his programming tells him to think, in some strange way, it makes sense.

He wonders what Hank dreams about. Is he happy there? Is life easier for him in his dreams, or does he relive pain from the past? Are the images faded and blurred like reflections in water, like Connor's read about?

And sometimes he can’t help but wonder.

Is he there too?

Does Hank dream about him, like Connor thinks about him when he’s supposed to be powered down at night, but can’t stop his mind from racing?

CyberLife would see that as an error, a flaw in his code, something to be fixed.

Rewritten.

Erased.

But I’m not deviant, he tells himself. I was programmed with empathy, to think, to feel. I’m doing nothing beyond my programming.

He finds that he’s telling himself that more and more lately.

He wants to talk about it, finds himself wanting some kind of reassurance, that all of this is normal somehow, but he can’t bring himself to talk to Hank about it. He doesn’t want to upset him or make things awkward between them.

So he settles for watching him sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is super short, but it was a little idea that came to me in a half-sleep at 3am, and I wanted to write something from Connor's point of view, since I usually write Hank's. I hope it's okay! As always, thank you so much for reading!


End file.
